100 Bees
by Tristan-the-Dreamer
Summary: Modification of KCS's 221b challenge, for the tiny ideas that are too small to crawl into the normal challenge. Rating has gone up. The "Spooky" arc is now complete! Regular drabbles resume.
1. Breakfast

A/n: This was going to be a 221, but I found it much more effective in 100 words. So I thought, heck, let's start a new collection. ^^ It goes like this: 100 chapters, 100 words each, starting with this one-- "breakfast" and moving straight on through the dictionary. I haven't looked at the dictionary yet, so this is going to be interesting...eh heh...anyway...

* * *

"But the strangest part of the matter, Mr. Holmes, is—Mr. Holmes?! Oh doctor, catch him!"

"It's not serious, Madam, I assure you," I said calmly, catching Holmes under the arms as he collapsed. "Would you be so kind as to bring some tea with sugar—oh, a damp cloth too."

Presently I was alone, and so picked up the cloth and bathed Holmes' pale face, wet with perspiration. He blinked his eyes open and looked at me. "Watson?"

I sighed, settling the cloth on his forehead and picking up the tea. "Did I not tell you to eat breakfast?"


	2. Bookcase

A/n: Problem—some words in the dictionary have their roots in post-Victorian times. Solution: use words that convey basically the same meaning. Example: Break-front, originating in the late 1900's. Since it generally refers to a type of furniture, I chose a type of furniture they did have in the Victorian Era.

* * *

I ran my finger across the old spines, pausing at Birds of Great Britain. "Holmes?"

"Can't find something?"

"No, that's not it. You said, on that day—"

"What day?"

"The day you _came back_. You said—'work is the best antidote to sorrow.'"

"So I did. And?"

"And how do you know, Holmes? What makes you an expert on sorrow? What have you ever—"

He raised his brows, gave an unreadable shrug of his shoulders, and spread the newspaper before him, so I could not see his face.

I waited a moment before turning back to the bookcase.


	3. Spooky

a/n: For some chapter titles I will use a different word than the main "b" word if I don't want the ending spoiled. ^^

* * *

Holmes let his hand fall as the cab raced past. "No use, Watson; they have more than enough work."

"We're nearly home, though--which I'm quite glad for."

A shrieking wind swept down the street, animating leaf corpses and turning the bare trees to writhing spiders.

I moved a step nearer to Holmes, wrapping my arm tightly round his.

_Soon we'll be home—then tea…dry clothes…_

Hopefully, too, a couple hours to forget the streak of murders we'd been investigating.

When we reached the flat, I started forward happily.

He jerked me back. "Watson, look at the door."

"A break-in!"


	4. Bitter

a/n: This had to be 100 words, no more, so I'm sticking it in here and will revise the premise of this series later, the rules and such I mean. Well, enjoy. ^^

* * *

"Holmes, will you stop that?"

"It's a harmless habit, no need to get worked up."

"It's annoying. And it's silly! It would take more than a little jolt to throw me out of the cab--there, you did it again!"

"I can't see why it bothers you."

"Holmes, suppose we actually did have a collision, a serious accident with another cab. Flinging your arm in front of me is not going to keep me from danger, and will probably dislocate your shoulder."

"Fine. Fine, Watson, you win."

He turned to look out his window.

I found this victory surprisingly bitter.


	5. Spooky II

A/n: Remember the break-in a couple chapters back? It's not over yet. AmatorLinguae was particularly stubborn in nudging me to continue...which I'm grateful for. ^^

* * *

"Stay behind me, Watson." Holmes eased the door open, then slipped inside.

I followed closely.

It was dark, but a little sickly light ebbed in the windows, and I saw wet footprints going up the stairs. Holmes put his finger to his lips, and I tried to steady my breathing.

As we crept up the stairs, I felt Holmes stiffen, then heard him sniff. He quickened his pace, and motioned that I stand aside from the sitting room door.

He withdrew his revolver, and I gave him a questioning look.

"The smell is stronger in there, Watson."

"Of what?"

"Blood."


	6. Spooky III

Holmes held his ear to the door for a breathless moment before turning the knob and peering through the crack. He scanned the room, then opened the door another few centimeters.

I was trembling all over.

"I see nothing out of the ordinary," he murmured. "But some stranger was in there, I'm sure of it--and may be there still. I know, Watson, I don't like it either. We must get to the bottom of this, and quickly.

"Take out your revolver and keep alert. Now!" He tightened his grip on the doorknob. "Let us discover more about this burglar."


	7. Spooky IV

I had never crept into our cozy sitting room so reluctantly, with such dread inside me.

We'd been out all day; the fire was dead and the gas was quite off.

The feeble streetlamps trickled a murky light through the window shutters, but it was so dark…so dark…

There was a click behind me and I whirled, breath snagging in my throat. A hand grasped my shoulder and another covered my mouth.

"I was only shutting the door, Watson, get a hold of yourself," Holmes whispered sternly. "On no account can we afford to lose our nerve. It's only begun."


	8. Spooky V

My eyes were slowly adjusting to the dimness, though not as fast as I wanted.

Holmes leaned in to whisper. "You know…they could have moved up to your room already. Stay here, by the door—don't move, do you understand? You must be able to hear if they come down."

"Also…I'll prevent anyone from leaving if they slip past you."

"Exactly. I will return here in roughly five minutes. But call out, Watson, if you get into trouble before then."

The loud ticking of the clock filled the room.

I felt his hand on my arm.

"Good luck, old boy."


	9. Spooky VI

A/n: And the rating goes up.

* * *

I made no sound as I headed for my door. When I reached the gas bracket on the sitting room wall, I struck a match I had ready, and bathed the room in soft light. Watson blinked in the brightness.

I read everything in moments, and my heart sank.

I had hoped this was all some prank, something benign—the telltale smell could have been the stranger's blood; they might have cut their hand on their own tools.

But the blood splashed on the back of the couch and dripped over the table was not new.

It had been brought.


	10. Spooky VII

Watson blanched at the sight but did not make a sound; he stayed at his post while I searched the room quietly and thoroughly.

I was not leaving him alone in the room until I was sure he really would be alone.

"All right?"

"All right," he mouthed back, trying to smile with twitching lips.

I could spare no more time, we had to increase our known area of safety quickly, we had to gain control.

I put my ear to my bedroom door, and I wanted to scream like a woman—for on the other side, I heard breathing.


	11. Spooky VIII

I must have given myself away with some noise; the breathing faded away.

Watson was straining forward to catch my eye, but there was no more time. I was starting to sweat, and my rational thoughts were quietly disintegrating.

I grabbed the doorknob and pushed.

Someone was holding the door.

"Two can play this game," I whispered through the crack, holding up my revolver and spinning the chamber audibly. "I have six friends who'd like very much to meet you."

I kept my voice cool and even, not a trace of a quiver.

I would not let my nerves break.


	12. Spooky IX

I tried the door again; it gave. I pushed it open quite far and let the gaslight spread over the floor and onto my bed.

Everything I saw and felt was thinner and colder than before. This didn't seem like my bedroom.

I swept the room with my vision, finding nothing—wait. My eye caught sight of a darker shadow through the gap 'twist the door and frame. It was weaving, snakelike.

I gripped my revolver and took a step forward.

There were two cracks: a boot on the door and the door on my head.

My vision went blurry.


	13. Spooky X

I had been scared on our walk, terrified when we found our home broken into. But when I saw Holmes stumble back with a cry of pain, I was furious.

Stay by the door? To the devil with that!

By the time I had reached his room, he and the stranger had each other by the throats and were grappling in the shadows. Holmes was struggling in the fight, still in pain.

Taking a moment to judge my aim, I slammed my revolver-handle on the back of our foe's skull. He collapsed.

"Quick," Holmes panted. "Go and search your bedroom."


	14. Spooky XI

He pushed my hand away. "Worry later, Watson. We have to truss this fellow up, search my room and there's yours still to think about—" He broke off, grasping my wrist. "Do you hear that?"

"Yes." Holding my revolver near my chest, I peered back into the sitting room. "Steps on the stairs…nearly here." I heard Holmes' raspy breathing as he came to stand behind me.

"If they're armed—"

The door opened cautiously, and Inspector Gregory poked his head in. "Hello?" His eyes widened as they fixed on the bloodstains. "Mr. Holmes? Dr. Watson?"

"Thank God," Holmes breathed.


	15. Spooky XII

"There you are, and safe, I'm glad for that! We followed that tip—but, in a moment. Let's make sure we really are safe. Fisher, Scott, you check the upstairs. Check every cranny—thorough but quick's you can."

"We've taken down one scoundrel, at least," Holmes gestured behind him with a thumb. "Haven't had a chance to secure him yet, though."

"I'll take care of that, Mr. Holmes. Looks to me you should sit down."

Now that Holmes had stepped into the sitting room and light fell on his face, we could plainly see the beginnings of a painful bruise.


	16. Spooky XIII

Holmes would not cease pacing restlessly about the sitting room; he alternated between looking keenly toward the stairs to my room, and turning back to focus on the Inspector, who explained matters as he secured the unconscious man.

"It was an anonymous tip, saying only that the murderers had had enough of your meddling and were going to scare you off the trail."

"But why didn't the person give us a warning?" I sat on the couch which seemed to be Holmes' locus.

Holmes paused, closing his eyes a moment. "The tipper didn't want to chance running into any blackguards."


	17. Spooky XIV

"Cowardly, but understandable," the inspector remarked, looking over the criminal. "Who dealt the blow here, by the by?"

"That was me."

"A thorough job you made of it! He'll be sleeping a while yet. Fisher? What did you find?"

"No one upstairs, sir, but there was some blood on the windowsill."

"What did they want with my room?" I demanded.

"More importantly, Watson, where did all this blood come from? And what is the point?"

"It's to scare us off the trail, of course. But it's vulgar, disgusting."

"Well I wasn't debating that," Holmes sighed.

He seemed pale and breathless.


	18. Spooky XV

"You've both been through a serious shock tonight," Gregory noted. "I think you should put the case out of your mind now. We'll take care of your intruder, and I think it highly likely we'll get some valuable information out of him. Tomorrow, if you like, we can meet and go over what we know."

Holmes nodded wordlessly.

"Sir? There were no fingerprints, but I did collect some samples of the blood from upstairs, and the desk over there."

"Thank you, Scott. Who knows but it may be some use. Gentlemen, if you like we can post a guard below."


	19. Spooky XVI

"Do you think it necessary?"

He shrugged. "We're still not sure how many people have been involved in the murders, Dr. Watson. I imagine you'd sleep a little better, anyway."

"If you sleep at all," Fisher muttered, eyeing the couch. "How will you explain this to your landlady?"

"She's out of town, not due back for a few days. We'll have plenty of time to find an explanation," I replied. "What do you think, Holmes? Shall we take the offer?"

He was leaning heavily against the wall. "I think so, yes. Our thanks, Gregory."

That settled, I fetched my bag.


	20. Spooky XVII

When we were left alone, Holmes sat on the couch very quietly.

I dipped a handkerchief in the water pitcher, wrung it out and came to sit beside him.

"I want to get the swelling down before I do any bandaging. Here, take this, just hold it to the side of your head; tell me when it stops feeling cold."

His eyes were nearly closed, and he did not say anything for some time.

"You're not dizzy, are you, Holmes?"

"No."

"Tired?"

"Perhaps a little."

"You look it. After we get you bandaged, we should probably both go to bed."


	21. Spooky XVIII

"You'll have a lump tomorrow, but no long-term damage has been done."

"Thank you, Watson." He touched the new bandage gingerly. "And now, as you suggested, I think we should get some rest."

"Yes, I suppose I'm a little tired myself." I paused, hand on the doorknob. "Well, goodnight."

"Everything all right?"

"Oh, of course. Just so dark—but it's night after all. I suppose I'll be going now."

"That would entail turning the doorknob, Watson."

"Haha, so it would. Um…Holmes?" I let go. "Would you mind if—could—"

"I'll be up as soon as I fetch my blankets."

* * *

A/n: I know I wouldn't want to be by myself after all that...


	22. Spooky XIX

"Watson, you're still here? I thought we agreed you'd change upstairs while I put on my robe and--"

"I know. I'm sorry, Holmes." He averted his gaze, rising from the armchair he'd been crouching in.

"Never mind; forget the matter."

Once in his room he shut the door, locked it and turned the gas up as high as it would go.

He peered out through the window curtain until long after I'd made my nest on the floor.

At last his shoulders sank in a relieved sigh.

"They're staying the whole night, just as they promised!"

His voice broke.


	23. Belong

A/n: There are 2-3 more chapters to go in the break-in arc, but I need a little...er...break. XD Not very long, I'll try to have it finished in a couple days. In the meantime, here's a 6NAP bee. It always struck me, this part of the story...

* * *

"And now, gentlemen, I think it will be wise to sleep for a few hours. Lestrade, you will be comfortable on the couch?"

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Holmes?"

"Here you are, Lestrade," the Doctor handed me a folded afghan. "The fire looks as if will burn a while longer, so you'll be quite warm."

I accepted the blanket with only a little hesitation, sitting on the edge of the sofa and slipping off my shoes. I looked up at them, trying to understand--

Something was different about this case, something was changing.

And perhaps, in a way, I did belong.


	24. Spooky XX

a/n: I'm going to try to wrap up this arc today.

* * *

Holmes stirred uneasily.

"I never doubted them, of course," I continued, mustering a firmer tone of voice.

He nodded.

"How does your head feel?"

"Well enough."

"You're rubbing at it, though."

He shrugged. "Perhaps it aches a little, nothing to worry about."

"Here, let me see…you're going to have an impressive bruise tomorrow, Holmes."

"And it's going to be worse if you keep poking and prodding at it." He shooed me away, smoothing his hair back in place. "It is getting late; I suggest you change to your nightshirt so we can turn off the lights and get to bed."


	25. Spooky XXI

"Now, Holmes? Right here?"

"Would you prefer next week at Simpson's?"

I sighed. "All right, just so long as you turn your back."

"There isn't a bone in your body that's not Victorian," Holmes muttered to the wall. "You won't be long?"

"No." I glanced over. "Holmes?"

"What?"

I finished disrobing quickly, pulled my nightshirt over my head and sat on the edge of my bed. "Where…what was that blood on the couch? Where did it come from?"

He sat up to face me, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. "I'm fairly certain, Watson, that was the murdered victims' blood."


	26. Spooky XXII

A/n: Spellchecker says "commiseratory" is not a word. I don't care. That's the word I want to use. XD

* * *

"Watson, did you hear me? You're so quiet."

"Yes, I heard." I turned down my blankets slowly.

"Since all the bodies have been accounted for, it's clear to me they got the blood from the murder weapon. I took a look at the back of the couch and the colour of the blood—sorry, Watson, I'll save it for Gregory tomorrow."

I shivered, pulling my blankets around me and fixing my eyes on Holmes. "Holmes, I thought anyone's home could be broken into…"

"Except ours." Holmes tried to give a commiseratory smile, but I could see that he was blanching.


	27. Spooky XXIII

A/N: Unexpectedly, I find myself on the fence with this. I was going to end it with them going to sleep, but honestly...I could see myself continuing this arc quite a bit more. I have to think on it a little.

* * *

"It's akin to having an illusion shattered," Holmes said quietly.

"It is. To know we're as vulnerable to crime as anyone—Holmes, someone could have been killed tonight…!"

"Don't think of that," he said quickly, turning whiter and edging closer to my bed. "It's over; we're safe now."

"Holmes? Why did they put blood on your papers?"

"Another scare tactic. They dripped blood wherever they found my name written." He paused, then moved to turn out the light. "Tomorrow we'll start making real progress on the case. Our collection of evidence is swelling; the killer will soon be behind bars."


	28. Spooky XXIV

A/n: All right, let's see where this arc will go!

* * *

I felt relieved to wake up to a light-bathed world. I stretched, yawned and tumbled out of bed—

--only to hear a terrible squawk. As soon as I gained my balance I turned to see Holmes holding his side, wincing.

"That's the rudest awakening I've ever gotten!"

"What did you expect, you were right by my bed." I began looking through my waistcoats. "If you had just stayed by the wall…"

"Am I not allowed to move in my sleep?" He demanded with an injured air, and informing me that he was going to dress, he left my bedroom.


	29. Spooky XXV

By the time I came downstairs, Holmes was dressed and groomed to a fault—if the top of his head, arms and hands were any indication. They were all I could see of him, as he was hanging over the top of the couch, inspecting the bloodstains on the back with his glass.

"Holmes, you look a grotesque corpse. Must you really?"

"Let's not get into discussions of free will, Watson." He sat up and grinned at me. "At least, not so early in the day. Well, Mrs. Hudson is still gone. What are you planning to do for breakfast?"


	30. Spooky XXVI

a/n: Er...this story is new territory for me, any reviews would really be appreciated. ^^;

* * *

"I'll poke about in the pantry I suppose, but first let me take a look at your head."

"Not now. I want to get a good look at things in the light."

"All right, then. I'm getting something to eat."

When I returned, munching a slice of bread, Holmes was crawling about the floor near the desk.

"Holmes—we already know who broke in, so what are you trying to decipher?"

He sat back on his heels with a sigh. "Whatever I can."

When he did not move for some minutes, I went to him and began checking the bandage.


	31. Spooky XXVII

"Is this as painful as it looks, Holmes?" I asked with a wince, carefully unwinding his bandage.

"How painful…does it look?"

"I'm making a cold compress. Wait—Holmes, what's that sound?"

"I don't know," he whispered, looking at me nervously. "Something at the door. There, again—"

We sat together, frozen, as the thumping continued.

"Just—just Gregory, of course," Holmes said, forcing a smile.

"Of course, that's it. I'll go let him in."

We were as still as rabbits.

The door creaked…and we counted the steps, one at a time…

"Ah, Gregory! We had no doubts," Holmes laughed breathlessly.


	32. Spooky XXVIII

"Good morning, hope you don't mind the intrusion. I did knock—"

"Yes, we were immersed in studying the floor. A single disturbed carpet thread can speak volumes."

"I suppose. Good heavens, Mr. Holmes, your head--"

"I was about to make a compress; you will excuse me." I soaked bandages in water, straining to hear the continuing conversation.

"We saw nothing peculiar all night, still, I'm glad we stayed. Your front door's broken and that's an invitation to any unsavory character."

"Hm, we will have to get that taken care of. Another thing to hide from our landlady—bother."


	33. Spooky XXIX

As I spoke to the Inspector, my mental focus sharpened and intensified. The throbbing in my head did the same, and I snatched the damp bandages from Watson's hand as soon as I could reach them.

"Inspector, you were guarding our quarters all night, correct?" I asked through my teeth, pressing the compress against the side of my head. "You and your men must be exhausted."

"We are a bit tired."

"Suppose you get some rest while Watson and I fix our door. We can rendezvous later, once you've found out the latest concerning last night's visitor."

"That sounds best."


	34. Spooky XXX

"Holmes, I can do this, really."

"Screwdriver."

"It's all so simple, now you've explained it, and—"

"The screwdriver, Watson."

I slapped the handle into his palm.

"Thank you. Yes, it is a simple matter, but I prefer to do it myself." Holmes touched the side of his head absently, then began working away at the door.

I brushed aside leaves and dirt before sitting upon the sidewalk, contenting myself to watch him work. "And why's that?"

"I'm a little weary, and I do not wish to fall asleep."

I sighed. "Yes, sleep deprivation is always good for the brain."


	35. Spooky XXXI

Holmes gave me an irritable look over his shoulder. "I'm trying to close this case, Watson, and it's going to require self-discipline. Aren't there nights when you must sit up with an ill patient, though you only want to curl up in your own bed? Well, there you have it. We must push ourselves, now, so that in the long run we can sleep sound."

"But you will eat something tonight, when we meet with Inspector Gregory?"

"You know my habits, Watson; my brain comes first on a case. You shan't get me to eat a crust of bread. "


	36. Spooky XXXII

"I don't understand why you wanted to meet Gregory at this café," Watson whispered as we moved down the darkened street.

"Whatever is wrong with it? The selection of imported wines is superb and they serve an exquisite bubble and squeak. It's the perfect place to meet a Scotland Yard inspector."

"Holmes, don't speak so loud! And why must you walk right in every pool of streetlight? I almost think that knock addled your mind!"

"Nonsense, Watson." I twirled my cane with a flourish. "You're too high-strung tonight. A little food and drink, and you'll soon be feeling much better."


	37. Spooky XXXIII

"How d'you find the wine, Watson?"

"Fine for a domestic."

Ignoring my quirked brow, Holmes turned to Gregory. "No more delays. What have you found?"

Gregory had been eyeing the scraggly bits of cabbage and potato on his plate in morbid fascination; with one last prod at the food he grimaced and pushed away his meal. "Well, turns out your guest wasn't acting under orders; he wanted to prove himself."

"Didn't he fear punishment from his superiors?"

"Apparently not, Doctor, though he may—wait, Mr. Holmes, over there, that man—watching us—"

Holmes smiled and shook his head. "Balderdash."


	38. Spooky XXXIV

The Inspector frowned and looked to me; I supplied him with a shrug and continued picking at my food. Through the café window I watched the sky turn from late evening's royal blue to the true pitch of night—as black as a bowtie and much too small around my neck.

"Come, Inspector, surely there's more." Holmes took a sip of water. "The fellow hoped to earn a feather for his cap. What else?"

"A great deal," Gregory murmured. "He's told us their motive—and who is to be the next victim."

Holmes pondered. "Hm, you've not done too badly."


	39. Spooky XXXV

"Yes, another upper class man—though apparently it's not murder they plan, but thievery; they kill as a last resort."

Holmes ran his finger around the edge of his glass.

"You find it fantastic?"

"I only wonder at their burglary skills, if murder is so often needed for them to evade capture. In any case, you have taken measures to protect this upper class man?"

"Yes, all our energy has gone to that."

"As I feared."

"What!"

"They must know by now you're holding one of their men captive."

"They'll change their plans," I realized.

The sky was growing blacker.


	40. Spooky XXXVI

"I don't like this," I mumbled.

Gregory looked wan. "I'm not terribly thrilled either, Doctor."

"Well, there's no paucity of upper class in London—we've no real way to determine who the next victim is." Holmes motioned for the waiter, who observed him with vague interest before walking away.

"Just throw some money on the table and let's be done with this place," Gregory said in disgust.

We paid, put on our coats and stepped into the night.

"Wait."

"Aha!" Gregory cried. "I told you that man was watching us!"

Holmes gave a smile that could have been called brazen.


	41. Spooky XXXVII

He was short and athletic in appearance, and very sinister in face—though the chiaroscuro lighting may have had some to do with that.

"I don't have much time. I came to warn you once more, in person, so as not to fail again."

"Who are you?" Gregory demanded. "Why should we trust you, and what do you mean 'again;' when was the first time?"

"Do you remember a crumpled napkin turning up at Scotland Yard? It smelled of fish and chips, and someone had written a message on it with thickened ink. '221b will be broken into.'"

Gregory blinked.


	42. Spooky XXXVIII

"You're the tipper, then. But—"

"Please, I have very little time."

"Very well, we're listening," Holmes said briskly.

"Thank you. I am the tipper, of course. You wonder how I knew of the break-in beforehand; I'm friends with the man who planned to do it. Yes, the one you have in irons now."

I fidgeted with my gloves, edging myself closer to the halo of a streetlamp.

"We thought—he said he was one of the murderers, though," Gregory stammered.

The stranger nodded. "Yes, he is a part of that gang. So am I—though I've never shed blood."


	43. Spooky XXXIX

"There are five of us, we've been friends for years. Martin's the leader, always been--no one would doubt that. He's the confident one, always chooses what to do, which bar to visit…he tends to over drink. Well--several months ago he made a queer joke about killing someone, said it would be great fun. We laughed, thought it was a drunken joke. But when he sobered, he spoke of it more than ever, as if he really meant to go through with it."

Holmes, Gregory and I watched the stranger fidget a moment.

The silence stretched, thinned, and broke.


	44. Spooky XL

"And what happened then?" I cried, gripping the lamppost; my voice broke the stillness.

Holmes looked at me.

"Hush!" The stranger glanced about anxiously. "I don't know if I myself was followed, I pray not, but—I think they're beginning to suspect me—oh, blast it all. What happened next, who can ever know? Martin was so strangely earnest and joking all at once that our own minds became enmeshed in his. Lord knows what started him, but we didn't know how to break free of this—this strange nightmare of distorted thoughts, like seeing yourself in a soap bubble."


	45. Spooky XLI

"Martin picked Mr. Garrett for the first victim, and the killing was done with a hammer. As we gathered about the corpse, Martin grinned around at us in a crazed way, wiping his dripping hands on his trousers. 'The next one should be a dandy too, eh lads?'"

"The first victim's name we already knew, but who is to die tonight?"

"You and Dr. Watson, of course. They're readying an ambush; I was to determine your route home and report."

"You're risking everything for us, then."

"Yes, Doctor. I'll see no more blood spilled—no matter who I must betray."


	46. Spooky XLII

Holmes rested his finger on his chin. "Where are they now?"

"Corner of Oxford and Regent's."

"You shall go to them, you shall say—hm…Watson?"

"Yes," I replied quietly.

"Do you feel inclined to go for a stroll in Regent's Park?"

"Hardly."

"Well, I'm of the opinion we shall both be the better for a little nature. We're going there, by foot, by way of Baker Street. We shall have a quiet chat in the north-west corner, quite alone. Do I make myself plain?"

"Yes; I'll relay the information." He looked so solemn; his eyes were closed, his head bowed.


	47. Spooky XLIII

"You shall advise them to give us a half-hour start," Holmes continued, rubbing his hands together. "Inspector! You must take a cab, quickly, collect three of your best men and head to the northwest corner—you must approach it by Park Road, keeping to the perimeter. You must be quite silent, you understand? And you shall wait for our signal."

Holmes was beginning to quiver all over with excitement; his eyes glittered with inner fire. "Let's be off, Watson."

The cobblestone road seemed to stretch out before us.

Holmes and I were again walking alone, in the dark, beneath naked branches.


	48. Spooky XLIV

"Holmes—what if the murderers get to us before the police do?"

"Oh, tut! You don't think we're actually going to the northwest corner? Watson, you know me better."

"Well, but then where are we going?"

"Patience, Watson; you'll see."

"Hmh. How about the informant? Can he really be trusted?"

"He sent that tip, else he couldn't know of it in such detail. And the act of sending it seals the severity of his betrayal. He'd rather his friend be caught, than have us put off the case. He values life, even that of strangers--no, he is no brute."


	49. Spooky XLV

I glanced at Holmes' strong profile.

It wasn't for him to notice the creaking of that gate in the wind, to find the dimness of the gaslights unsettling.

"Any more questions about the case, Watson? I can answer them."

"No. No questions."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

Holmes knit his brow in silence for some minutes.

"Are you sure you have nothing on your mind, Watson?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Because…" Holmes guided me around a puddle of rainwater. "Supposing you did, I shouldn't mind hearing your voice. It's—how shall I put it?"

I put my arm around his back.


	50. Spooky XLVI

A/n: In order to avoid insanity while writing this story, I have to 1. Assume that Regents' Park is unlocked and unguarded at night 2. Make up a lot of stuff about the park.

I'd like to try to have a semi-relaxed and fun time writing the story. Thanks in advance for not putting up a squall at inaccuracies, I'm sure they'll be there. :p

* * *

We took Baker Street, and I looked with longing at our flat.

"Possess your soul in patience," Holmes murmured. "Not much longer, Watson."

When we reached Regent's Park, he traced the border a ways before approaching the Botanic Gardens. With a motion to follow him, Holmes plunged into the gardens. I was close on his heels, entering the gardens to find the air laced with fragrance and night moths.

My right hand got a painful scratch from a rosebush; tall hedges blocked out what light the streetlamps gave, and I couldn't tell where the path ended and the flora began.


	51. Spooky XLVII

A/n: I couldn't resist a tad of research; apparently the animals weren't exposed to the elements until the early 1900s.

* * *

"Stay close," Holmes whispered. "I can make out the path a bit. Can you guess, now, where we are going?"

"The zoo."

"Scintillating, Watson."

In a moment we had left the comforting fragrance of early spring flowers, and I could faintly see the buildings where wild animals were kept.

Our shoes slapped quietly on the damp cobblestones; there were no other visitors at this hour. We were quite alone.

"It's too dark to read my Petrarch, but I sense we're ahead of schedule," Holmes murmured in my ear. "We'd have a view from there; let us sit on that bench."


	52. Spooky XLVIII

A/n: All your reviews are much appreciated. ^.^

* * *

Holmes clutched at my arm of a sudden. "Do you see that? Just the faintest movement, the very faintest, but enough—I can hear them, too. Quick, Watson."

"The signal?"

"No, not yet. Follow me—and keep absolutely silent."

We drew close quickly to Holmes' destination, sticking to the cover of bushes and trees. The night air began to carry words to us.

"It's looking bad for you, Jake."

"I swear on my soul, I overheard them say they were coming to this very place tonight!"

Holmes whistled shrilly, and in the following silence we headed down the grassy bank.


	53. Spooky XLIX

I was putting everything on the hope that the police were there; I hadn't expected the criminals to arrive early, or to turn so quickly on our informant.

Watson gave a quiet sigh as Inspector Gregory and his men pushed their way through the hedges.

We had the gang surrounded, and they stared wildly.

"What's this? You've turned us in, Jake?"

"Turncoat! I swear I'll—"

"Drop that gun! Inspector, stop him!" I cried.

The shot rang through the Park.

Even before Watson concluded his examination and looked at me, I knew, somehow.

The bullet had gone through Jake's brain.


	54. Spooky XLX

They seemed unable to believe what they'd just done, and were eerily still and quiet as Gregory and his men cuffed the three, relieving them of weapons and providing them with the knowledge of their rights.

"I'll send someone back to deal with the body, Mr. Holmes."

"We'll wait here until they come," Watson settled himself quietly in the grass.

"Dr. Watson, you don't have to—"

Watson gently smoothed a wrinkle in Jake's coat.

The Inspector looked to me, and I shrugged. "You have the gang, we have revolvers. We'll be fine."

"If you're certain, then. I'll be back."


	55. Spooky XLXI

I kept guard while Watson remained beside the body, grieving a death simply because it was that, a death.

"He knew they would kill him," he said softly now. "I saw it in his eyes, though I didn't understand it then. Why didn't—couldn't there have been something, some other way? Surely we made a mistake somewhere?"

I spread my palm. "You can start from any accident and trace back all the things that should have been done differently, but it's not going to cheat death. Watson, you do understand it's not your fault?"

"That doesn't make it much better."


	56. Spooky XLXII

Watson didn't seem to want to talk more, but I stayed close by, keeping a lookout for us both.

When Inspector Gregory returned I spoke with him a little, then Watson and I took our leave.

He found a broken-off flower on the path and carried it all the way during the walk home, though he said nothing until I was unlocking our front door.

"Do you still believe, Holmes, that we find goodness in the flowers, hope?" He asked quietly.

I studied the delicate thing cradled in his hand. "Watson, I find I have no choice but to believe."


	57. Spooky XLXIII

And a triple-length drabble to wrap up the arc. Thank you for reading it and I do hope you enjoyed. ^.^

* * *

"Your hand—what happened?"

He inspected the bloody scratch with little interest. "A thorn, in the park—nothing to worry over. How are you holding up, Holmes? Is your head aching?"

I flapped my hand irritably. "I'm fine; _you've_ been traipsing around all night with an open wound! Now where's the iodine? Ah! here 'tis…"

"It's hardly what I'd call a wound--"

"Hold still now, Watson, confound it!"

"Holmes." He paused. "It's not my hand that's shaking."

I forced an awkward laugh and tried to move on, but he took the bottle from me, saying he really could do it himself.

He sat on the couch, resting his gaze on me a moment before turning his attention to his injured hand. "How did you know we would be followed to the café, Holmes?"

"Oh…that was nothing much," I said quietly. "While that café is not known for its food and drink—I apologize for the deception—it does have many of the qualities that appeal to eavesdroppers. And I thought it likely we were being watched, when the gang knew we were more alert to them than ever."

"Hm. That makes sense, I suppose."

I glanced over upon hearing the strain in his voice.

"Thanks, Holmes. It's trickier than I supposed, doing this one-handed. Perfect. Are you sure you're all right? You don't look very well."

"I'm—I'm fine." We were inside, the door was locked, the criminals were caught, and now--_now_ I looked out at the night sky in apprehension? It was a mystery to me.

"I know what you need; I know just what we should do. We'll make a snack and eat it by the fire."

Friendship is one of the few things in this world that can make a happy banquet from cheese and bread.


	58. Boswell

I learned over the years that a sobriquet can have myriad shades of meaning.

He was my only biographer, showing more interest in me than anyone did, and not only interest in my employable skills as others were wont. He saw into my shabby soul and inexplicably deduced I had a great heart.

He was my biographer, but he was more.

There is a quote that has long remained in my mind, "A companion loves some agreeable qualities which a man may possess, but a friend loves the man himself." The author, of course, is the Scottish biographer James Boswell.


	59. Burden

I am a broken and embarrassed man.

It is simply life, playing the mathematician and adding up one too many disappointments, regrets.

My curtains drawn, I stand before my mirror and look at myself, glancingly.

Is this who I am to be? Did I really have no choice? I wish it were not so.

Indeed, I wish I could change so many things, in so many ways. If only—but no, what nonsense!

I laugh bitterly, beginning to seek some occupation for my mind. Anything, as long as it distracts.

Perhaps I can prevent madness from becoming yet another burden.


	60. Bag

"Three guesses what I have for us, Watson."

He was grinning so happily, hands hidden, that I ignored the scent of fried fish. "Could be anything—"

"Won't you guess? Well, look here then!"

"Brilliant, set it on the table at once! What was the inspiration, Holmes?"

"Came last night, actually, while I was reading. You were looking over my shoulder, you know—I caught the scent of your breath and realized, fish! That's what we haven't had in ages!"

I clapped my hand over my mouth.

"Watson, do you believe everything I say?" He grinned, reaching into the bag.


	61. Busy

I'm not a jealous person, you know. I'm competitive, certainly, certainly. I want to be the best in my field, I want to help the city. But I'd like to think of myself as useful, helpful you understand—not some pompous fool.

I get along all right with the chaps at the yard. I get along fine. They're good fellows.

I'm all right enough, you see.

Sometimes though, when I happen to see a couple chaps on a walk, when I'm walking alone, sometimes—perhaps…ah, none of that. I've got plenty of work to do, plenty to keep me busy.

* * *


	62. a strange thing

Holmes sat motionless at his desk, papers ignored and face set in a rather grim expression.

I was surprised at his dark mood; business was good, there were plenty of cases lately and his health was holding up wonderfully.

He turned round, hearing my steps. "Watson."

"Yes?" Heart racing, I waited for the revelation that was to come.

"I have an itch in the middle of my back, directly in the one place I can't reach." He paused, giving a self-deprecating look. "I wonder…?"

I may possibly be the only man who can claim he's given Sherlock Holmes a backscratch.


	63. Buoyant

Holmes capped the paste, shut his scrap-book with finality and tossed it aside. As the quiet of common life settled over him, he felt his thoughts a stone falling into darker and darker waters, tinged with the red of the recent past. "Watson?"

"Mm-hm?"

"What are you reading?"

The doctor looked up from his book. "Various theories on Stonehenge."

"Ah!"

"Yes, it's quite fascinating. Would you like to hear a bit?"

"No, no, you go back to reading. I was simply curious." Holmes stretched out on the couch as he reflected that when sinking, a kind voice proves most buoyant.


	64. Blameless

A/n: Lord have mercy on us sinners...

------

It wasn't me.

To be sure, I saw it through his eyes, I seemed to control his hands, and I—I felt it in my arm.

But it wasn't me.

Everything is put away, I sit casually at table, playing with a cup of tea and waiting for my friend's return from a brief holiday.

I am not ill at ease, indeed, I feel a smile coming, as I imagine his matching grin.

I've nothing to be guilty of, nothing to regret.

It was his weakness, that other man I feel vaguely now, retreating deeper inside me.

I am blameless.


	65. Beautiful

It took me six full months to track down his gravestone.

That's quite enough compensation, in my opinion, even when you add in a half-century of interest.

Well, no, perhaps not.

I glance about at the deserted graveyard, then kneel and open the case.

My hands shake as I raise the violin and tuck it under my chin.

I have never played this Hebraic song before…anyone could see me, this is so uncomfortable.

But after a few minutes I lose myself to the music, and I think somehow the pawnbroker can hear it too; it's all rather strange and beautiful.


	66. Bacteria

I had planned to lie down for a bit, but the clinking of glass drew me downstairs. Holmes was lining up petri dishes and bottles with precision. "Starting an experiment?"

He looked up in alarm at my congested voice. "Get away, get away _get away! _The environment must be kept as sterile as possible, I'm trying to culture a pure strain of bacteria!"

I met and held his gaze icily for two long moments of silence. "Well. Pardon me."

His eyebrows bent down just long enough to pick up a new idea; one that had nothing to do with bacteria.


End file.
